


One Single Thread of Gold

by thetomkatwholived



Category: Schitt's Creek
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Baseball, Feelings, First Dates, First Kiss, Hands, M/M, Mutual Pining, Pre-Relationship, SportsFest
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-27
Updated: 2020-07-27
Packaged: 2021-03-05 18:55:20
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,244
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25500223
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thetomkatwholived/pseuds/thetomkatwholived
Summary: So if Patrick wanted to spend time with him watching a baseball game, David would happily cheer on the players in a game he knew nothing about. If it would make Patrick smile, if it would allow them to spend time together outside of work, he would do it without question.Patrick has a baseball viewing party, and David has a lot of feelings.
Relationships: Patrick Brewer/David Rose
Comments: 54
Kudos: 186
Collections: Schitt’s Creek Sports Fest





	One Single Thread of Gold

**Author's Note:**

  * In response to a prompt by Anonymous in the [SCSportsFest](https://archiveofourown.org/collections/SCSportsFest) collection. 



> I hope you all enjoy my attempt at writing a sports-related fic! This is actually my first fic in the Schitt's Creek fandom, and I'm both excited and incredibly nervous. I actually love baseball and played softball much of my pre-college life, so it wasn't too difficult to conceive a fic around the concept of baseball. 
> 
> Big thank you to [filthysweetie](http:/filthysweetie.tumblr.com/), who is a great friend for being willing to read an 8,000-word fic for a show she's never seen just because I asked for some help. Also, for a lot of other reasons.
> 
> The title is a lyric from invisible string by Taylor Swift.

Patrick Brewer seemed nervous. In the few weeks that David Rose had known him, he had never seen Patrick so nervous. Maybe a bit hesitant at times, or possibly shy, but never full-on nervous. He was jittery, already having knocked over two displays and breaking a bottle of body milk. His pale skin had a permanent pink tinge, as though he couldn’t stop blushing. Maybe worst of all, he had been quiet and closed off, avoiding eye contact and barely responding to anything David said.

David squeezed his eyes shut and placed his palms flat on the counter, taking a deep breath. He opened his eyes to see Patrick, back towards him, shoulders tensed up.

“Okay, is something wrong? Did I do something wrong?” Patrick turned around, startled at David’s words.

“What? Of course not, no, you’re perfect! I mean… no, you haven’t done anything.” Patrick had only been working at the store for about 2 weeks now, but David still found it unlikely that he hadn’t done something even a bit off.

Frantically nodding his head, David slowly approached Patrick, as though he were some scared little woodland creature. His wide eyes were not dissimilar to one. “Sure, sure. It’s just that you’ve been off all day, and I’m not known as an easy presence to be around. So… if I’ve done anything to make you uncomfortable, um, you can tell me.”

Patrick’s wide eyes finally,  _ finally _ , made contact with David’s. His expression was so earnest, it almost knocked the breath out of David. “You haven’t done anything wrong. I, uh, I actually was just a little nervous. To, uh, ask you something.” Patrick turned away to fiddle with a candle on the shelf beside him.

“Ask me something?”

“Yeah. So Ray’s going out of town this Saturday and has given me full reign of the house. I was thinking about maybe having some people over, just get to know more people. But also spend some time with the people I do know. So if you want to come over… And Stevie, of course!”

David pushed his lips to one side, trying to tamp down his smile. “Of course. Yeah, I’d love to. I can’t speak for Stevie, but I will definitely be there”

Patrick visibly relaxed, biting back a smile, “Great! Awesome! Yeah, great. So the game starts at 2, but you’re very much welcome to come over anytime, even before. I promise not to make you help me set up or anything.”

“Um, game? Is this a game night situation?! You know, six is optimal for gameplay. So you, me, Stevie. I guess Alexis? Maybe Ted, but that might be awkward. Um, Twyla? She wasn’t that great at the last one, but we need 6 so --”

“No, David, the Blue Jays game! They’re playing the Red Sox so it should be a good game.”

“Yeah, I have no idea what you just said. Some birds are going to play games with some socks?”

Patrick huffed out a laugh, “No, it’s baseball! The Toronto Blue Jays and the Boston Red Sox!”

“I think Alexis dated a red sock once. I never met him, they didn’t last long.”

“Um, wow, that’s… wow. But yeah, I was hoping to have people over to watch the game. I figured it could be fun.” Patrick's smile was so sincere, his excitement so palpable, that even though everything in David cringed away from the idea of spending an afternoon watching sports, he couldn’t deny Patrick this joy.

“Yeah, it definitely could be. Um, will there be snacks?”

Patrick’s smile grew fond, “Of course, David. I would never invite you somewhere without the promise of food.”

Something buzzed under David’s skin, kickstarted by the inexplicable feeling of being seen, being known. 

It was becoming harder and harder for David to deny his intense feelings for Patrick. They began as purely physical, an acknowledgment that Patrick was handsome; he had that smalltown boy next door look that David couldn’t help but be drawn to. Except it turned out that Patrick was so much more than an appealing face and strong body. Patrick was quick and witty, smart and kind. He could keep up with David, something only Stevie seemed to be able to do up until now. And Patrick cared, sincerely, deeply cared, about David and his vision. Also, his confidence was incredibly sexy, there was no denying that. Every day gave David more and more reasons to want to be around Patrick, to be with Patrick. 

So if Patrick wanted to spend time with him watching a baseball game, David would happily cheer on the players in a game he knew nothing about. If it would make Patrick smile, if it would allow them to spend time together outside of work, he would do it without question.

*******

David showed up to Patrick’s (well, Ray’s) at 1:25 pm that Saturday. He knew he wanted to come early; after all, he’d been invited to come early. He liked the idea of being there before everyone else, as if he were also, somehow, the host. He’d be lying if he said he didn’t entertain the idea of co-hosting tasteful dinner parties and small family gatherings with Patrick. Maybe coordinating their outfits and welcoming people into a shared home. David also felt a deep sense of awkwardness at those fantasies, the familiarity and domesticity so far removed from their cordial working relationship and budding friendship.

As much as David wanted to show up at noon and spend two hours alone with Patrick, he also knew that his eagerness had been a major turnoff in past relationships. 35 minutes early felt right. Early enough that he would still get time with Patrick, but not so early as to scare him off.

He braced himself before knocking on the door. A moment later, Patrick wrenched open the door, dressed head to toe in Blue Jays paraphernalia. David hated how adorable he found that.

Patrick beamed, “David! You’re here! I was worried you weren’t going to show up until later. I mean, not worried. I just…”

“Well, you had said I could come early. So I’m here. Early.”

“Mhm, yeah! I know Ronnie was planning to get here around 1:45, and Ted just texted to let me know he should be here in 15.”

“Oh. Um. So people are getting here before 2? I thought. Um. I thought I was early.” David felt his cheeks grow hot, embarrassed that he had so badly misinterpreted everything.

“You are,” Patrick beckoned him inside, “I probably should have been more clear about the timing. People usually like to be here a bit early, to catch some of the pre-game talk and then be able to see the rosters and stuff. So the game starts at 2, but the party starts before 2.”

David moseyed awkwardly around the living room, taking in the space. Ray truly had awful interior design instincts. “Ah. So I may have been under the impression that 2 was more of a suggestion. Like, many people would be fashionably late.”

Patrick shook his head with a fond smile, “No, not that kind of party. But, um, if you maybe wanted to stay after the game? It’ll probably be done around 5 so maybe I could make us dinner or something?”

David tried to not read anything into Patrick’s expression, but his eyes screamed something akin to hope, and David wanted nothing more than to replace that hope with certainty. “I’d like that. Um, just out of curiosity, what are you going to make for… us?” David liked how us felt. 

“Oh! Uh, I was just going to make pasta, I think. But I can definitely find a better recipe or something…”

David smiled and shook his head lightly, “Pasta’s perfect. I don’t need anything special.”

Patrick swallowed and shrugged, “Maybe not, but you deserve something special.”

“Oh,” David breathed out, his stomach fluttering.

They gazed at each other for a few moments, Patrick lightly smiling and David trying to regain his composure. David was sure Patrick could hear his heart beating wildly in his chest. Was this the moment? How easy would it be for David to lean in and close the gap between them? How easy to finally know what it felt like to kiss Patrick?

As he began to shift forward, Patrick seemed to come to, gesturing David towards the couch, “Another perk to arriving early is that you get to choose the best seat in the house!”

David faltered for only a second, shaking himself almost imperceptibly, “Mm, and where would that be?” They were good at banter; banter was safe. Patrick’s answering grin was enough to let him know that this volley was exactly where Patrick wanted to be.

“Well, I was planning to sit right,” Patrick settled into one side of the loveseat, “here. This sofa is easily the most comfortable in the house and has the best access to the snacks.” He nodded towards the coffee table, laden with food.

“Ah, that’s a great choice for you.” David covered his mouth with a hand, hoping to hide his smile.

“Yes, I think so. And wouldn’t you know it, this sofa actually holds two people comfortably. So I was thinking, it would be the right decision for you to claim the other spot because it honestly is the best choice in the whole house.”

“Mhm,” David nodded and rubbed his hand over his mouth contemplatively, “but you see that doesn’t allow me to sit next to Roland, and I think we all know that was my main goal in coming here today.”

Patrick huffed out a laugh, “Oh no, I forgot to invite him. I guess you’ll just have to settle for your second choice.”

“I thought you said Ray was out of town.”

Patrick’s smile was breathtaking as it took over his whole face, “Sit down, David.”

David bit down his smile and plopped down next to Patrick, leaving a good amount of space between the two. He placed his hands awkwardly on his knees, avoiding eye contact, but he could see Patrick looking at him curiously in his periphery. 

“You look really comfortable. Totally natural.” Patrick smirked and slung his arm along the back of the couch.

“I am, thank you.” David stroked his hands over his knees, still avoiding Patrick’s eyes.

“You can settle in, you know. It’s much more comfortable if you loosen up a bit and sit back.” A laugh was evident in Patrick’s voice.

David dropped his shoulders, loosened his hands, and settled further into the couch. The movement made it so Patrick’s arm was just lightly grazing David’s shoulders.

“I wasn’t sure how, uh, close we could be. I didn’t want to be weird.” David finally turned towards Patrick, noting that his eyes were full of mirth and something awfully close to fondness.

“I’m more than willing to get as close as you’d like.”

_ Oh _ . 

“Oh.” This felt like the moment. Patrick was leaning in. Patrick’s eyes flicked down to David’s lips for a moment. Patrick’s hand raised up to settle on David’s jaw. It was happening! 

Just as David’s eyes slipped shut, anticipation racing through his veins, a knock sounded at the door. His eyes still closed, he heard Patrick let out a frustrated sigh that sounded an awful lot like “fuck.”

Suddenly, Patrick’s hand was gone and the sofa shifted slightly without his weight. David figured he could open his eyes now because it evidently wasn’t happening anymore.

“Hey, bud! Thanks for inviting me!” Ted’s voice echoed through the house, making David greatly resent the otherwise pleasant man.

“Uh, yeah, no problem. Hey, I thought you were gonna be here at 1:40?” Patrick sounded out of breath, frustration at the edges of his tone. David checked his phone. 1:35.

“Well, it’s almost 1:40! I overestimated, I guess. I brought some cookies and goat cheese!” David slightly perked up at the mention of more food, although even the promise of food couldn’t erase his lingering disappointment at the almost kiss.

Ted appeared in the living room, hands full with his food and a Blue Jays hat on his head. While he was never going to be to David’s taste, he was undeniably attractive and probably one of the most friendly people he’d ever met; it wasn’t hard to see why Alexis was so hung up on him.

“David! Hey! Alexis didn’t mention you’d be here!” Ted found a small space to place his cookies, having passed off his goat cheese to Patrick, who was plating it in the kitchen.

“You talked about me with Alexis?”

“Oh, no, she asked if I had any fun weekend plans, and I told her all about Patrick’s viewing party.” Ted was making a move to sit next to David on the sofa, unaware of Patrick’s claim to that seat. Thinking quickly, David swung his feet onto the other cushion, trying his best to look nonchalant, as though he always put his feet up on other people’s furniture. Ted didn’t seem to mind, stopping short to plop down on the full-sized couch.

Patrick made his way back into the room then, holding a platter with cheese and crackers in one hand and a beer in the other. He squeezed the platter onto the coffee table, precariously, and placed his beer on a coaster on the side table. When he noticed David spread out on the couch, he raised his eyebrows with a smirk. David returned the smirk and swung his legs off the couch so Patrick could settle back into his seat. He did his best to ignore Ted’s surprised and delighted smile in the background, not wanting to acknowledge that whatever had been happening with Patrick wasn’t actually all in his head. If Ted had noticed, it made it real.

Patrick and Ted got into a discussion about the upcoming game, leaving David to zone out and indulge in the snacks. When the doorbell rang a few minutes later, Patrick cut himself off and made to get up.

“No, I’ve got it. You were talking to Ted, I wasn’t doing much of anything.” David had unconsciously placed a hand on Patrick’s arm to stop him. Without thinking, he gave a small squeeze, impressed by the muscle he felt under his grasp.

“Wow, um, thanks, David. That’s surprisingly helpful of you.” Patrick was blushing. David was delighted.

“Mm, I’m actually a very helpful person so…” David rose, making his way to the door.

“Okay, David,” Patrick called out, prompting David to throw a glare over his shoulder, only to see Patrick already back in conversation with Ted. David took a moment to gaze at him fondly.

The bell began ringing again, whoever was at the door clearly growing impatient.

“All right, all right, calm down,” David said as he wrenched the door open. 

Ronnie stood behind the door, looking wholly unimpressed, finger poised right over the doorbell. Stevie stood a few steps back, trying to hide a laugh and clutching a bottle of red wine that David was sure she did not plan to share.

“You’re not Brewer.” Ronnie raised an eyebrow.

“Um, no. He was talking to Ted so I offered to get the door.” David tried to ignore Stevie’s knowing smile in the background.

“Huh. Well, I don’t really care.” Ronnie shouldered by David, “Didn’t know you were a baseball fan.”

David followed Ronnie inside, not eager to deal with Stevie’s teasing just yet. “Oh, um, I’m not. Patrick invited me so I… came.”

“Mhm. I’m gonna get a drink.” Ronnie made her way into the kitchen, leaving David alone with Stevie in the entryway.

“You offered to get the door? You?” Stevie made her way in front of David, effectively blocking his way back into the living room and away from this conversation. “Instead of staying all comfortable on the couch, probably with easy access to snacks, you offered to do something nice and selfless for someone else?”

“Yes. It’s not that out of character.”

“You don’t do things for other people. I’ve asked you multiple times to man the front desk while I take a bathroom break and you always refuse. We barely get any business!”

“I have helped… before… at some previous time.”

Stevie was smirking, and David was not a fan, “Or maybe it’s not so much the task as it is the person the task helps.”

David crossed his arms in defense and tried to adopt an aloof air, “I have no idea what you mean.”

“Patrick’s pretty great, huh?”

As if the mention of his name acted as a summons, Patrick appeared in the entryway, “Hey, there you two are! David, I held Ronnie off of your seat, but I can’t make any promises now that I’ve left my post.”

David, grateful for an easy out, made his way towards Patrick, pointedly ignoring Stevie as she mouthed “your seat!” She took far too much glee in needling David about his feelings for Patrick, unwilling to take him at his word that he didn’t like Patrick. Her disbelief of his words was correct, obviously, but David refused to allow her the satisfaction of seeing right through him. 

A few more people arrived, Patrick had left the door unlocked and shouted for them to come in, so no one had to keep getting up to answer the door. Soon, the game broadcast was beginning, with far more preamble than David thought necessary. After watching a former Degrassi actor (who David was pretty sure he’d made out with once upon a time) throw a horrible first pitch that hopped off the plate and Avril Lavigne (!) sing both the Canadian and American National Anthems, the game truly began.

David tried his best to keep up, he really did, but suddenly balls were being thrown at people, and sticks of wood were being violently swung, and a man with a chest pad and helmet was yelling. He couldn’t figure out why batters swung at some and not others, and why they would seem to hit it and not run, and why they looked dejected when they hit the ball far and someone caught it.

“So that was a fly ball, sometimes called a pop fly. Basically, if a player on the other team can catch the ball before it hits the ground, the one who hit it is automatically out.” Patrick’s voice was low and smooth in David’s ear, his breath tickling the hairs on David’s neck, “Once a team gets three outs, the other team gets to bat.”

While the loveseat the two were on already didn’t provide for much personal space, Patrick had now moved even closer, causing the line of their legs to just touch. Patrick didn’t have to lean too far to whisper in David’s ear.

“Why don’t they swing at everything? Wouldn’t they have a better chance at hitting it if they kept trying?” David turned away from the game to fully address Patrick, whose attention seemed to be split between the game and his couch partner.

“You know the phrase ‘three strikes and you’re out?’” David nodded, “So that comes from baseball. The batter only gets three strikes. A strike is when he swings and misses, he doesn’t swing at a pitch in a certain range, or he hits a foul ball, which is when the ball is hit outside of the field of play. So if he just keeps swinging, he’d get out pretty quickly.”

“What about when it’s not a strike? When the ball’s not in that… range?” David was sorely confused, but he delighted in the spark his questions brought to Patrick’s eye.

“Then it’s a ball.”

Now he was just making fun of him, “No, I know it’s a ball, but what is it when the… pitch is not in the range?”

Patrick laughed, but it had no malice behind it and helped to ease some of David’s tension as opposed to heighten it, “That kind of pitch is called a ball. Admittedly, it’s not the best choice of terminology.”

“Okay. So what if all of the pitches are balls?”

“The batter gets four balls in addition to his three strikes. After the fourth ball, the batter gets to walk which means he gets to advance to first base with no danger of getting out.” 

David nodded, wanting to appear as though he understood, even though he still had so many questions. Would Patrick really want to be with someone who didn’t know about a game he loved? He knew he should have studied before coming over.

“It can be complicated so don’t worry if something doesn’t make sense. I’m happy to answer any and all questions.” Patrick’s smile was blinding and sincere, causing David’s cheeks to flush and his attention to quickly divert back to the TV. It seemed that in the time it took for Patrick to give a short crash course on batting, the teams had switched, with the Blue Jays now at-bat. 

Anytime something new happened, Patrick would lean in close and explain it to David. Every double play, home run, and stolen base brought the promise of Patrick in his vicinity. Even though he was starting to get the hang of the game, he found himself asking for refreshers on the importance of sliding and when a foul ball would actually be a strike. By the 4th inning, the two were pressed closely together, Patrick keeping a nearly steady stream of commentary whispered into David’s ear.

He felt giddy. That was the only way to describe the fluttering of his heart and the flipping of his stomach. David could feel Patrick against his whole left side, could hear his sweet voice enveloping him, could smell the spiciness of his cologne. Never before had he smiled so much while watching sports. Maybe he’d just never smiled so much. The room was packed, and the game was loud, but David’s focus was squarely on Patrick. He barely noticed Stevie’s knowing glances anytime Patrick leaned in closer, too busy siphoning all the serotonin he could from Patrick’s presence.

Patrick’s hand was poised lightly on his own knee, just centimeters from where David had positioned his own hand on his own knee. It would be so easy to just nudge Patrick’s pinky with his pinky, to test the waters and see if maybe he wanted to have that contact as much as David did. 

As a Red Sox player struck out, a player who apparently had the potential to tie the game by getting a hit, David thought the commotion surrounding this event would be the perfect opportunity to enact his plan. But just as he flexed his finger out, Patrick stood up. In fact, everyone stood up. David whipped his head around the room in confusion.

“Seventh-inning stretch.” David’s blank expression drew a laugh from Patrick who continued, “It’s this time between the two halves of the seventh inning where everyone stands up to stretch and get food or drink. It kind of makes more sense when you’re actually at the game, but you get kinda stiff after a while regardless of where you are.”

Pushing down the dirty joke that immediately sprung to his mind, David stood, taking note of his tightened muscles, letting out a relieved and surprised noise. “Oh wow, yeah, that feels nice.”

The two men shared a smile, David reveling in the fondness of Patrick's expression and knowing his own expression mirrored it.

“Do you want another drink? Most of the food is gone, unfortunately.” Patrick gestured towards the coffee table, once overflowing with snacks, now laden with crumbs and empty containers.

“Mm, well I’ve been promised a nice dinner later so I’m okay with the lack of snacks. But I won’t say no to another glass of wine.” Patrick’s smile was almost blinding after David’s reference to their dinner, and David was almost glad when he walked away to get their drinks; it was overwhelming how warm that smile made him feel.

“Um, hi!” David jumped at Stevie’s teasingly indignant greeting.

“Oh my God, how long have you been there?”

“Long enough to watch you longingly stare at Patrick as he walked away.”

“Okay, am I some Jane Austen heroine? I was not longingly doing anything.” David crossed his arms and knitted his eyebrows together.

Stevie snorted out a laugh, “Everything you do in regards to Patrick is drenched in longing.”

“Um, putting aside the unexpected poetic nature of the statement, that is not true! He’s my business partner and my friend. There is no longing taking place.”

“Mhm, so you haven’t spent the last few innings figuring out how to hold his hand? And am I to assume you’ve just taken a great interest in baseball? So all those whispered questions aren’t just a way to lean in real close?” She smirked, smugness dripping from her tone.

Had he really been so bad at being subtle? “Actually, I have. My dad loves baseball and I was thinking it would be a good birthday present if I took him to a game.” David was proud of his ability to craft such a lie so quickly.

“Your dad’s birthday is in January. Baseball isn’t played in January.”

“Did I say birthday? I meant Father’s Day.” Baseball must happen in June, right?

“It’s the end of July.”

“I like to plan in advance!” David sighed, calming himself down, “Okay, so maybe there’s a certain appeal to Patrick leaning in close to whisper baseball things in my ear.”

Stevie tried hard to tamp down her grin, but it was in vain. She looked like the Cheshire Cat. “For what it’s worth, he seems to agree.”

Before David could confirm what that meant, Patrick reappeared at David’s side, offering him a glass of wine. “I wasn’t sure what you wanted, I figured it was best to stick with the red wine.”

David could see Stevie’s smirk in his periphery, finding some amusement at Patrick unknowingly referencing David’s sexuality explanation. “Um, that’s great. Thank you.” He may have intentionally brushed their fingers together as he accepted the glass, but the tiny hitch in Patrick’s breath let David know that the contact was not unwelcome.

The last notes of “Take Me Out to the Ballgame” died out as the Blue Jays third baseman made his way to the plate to restart the game. Everyone migrated back to their seats, many having scattered about during the short interval. David unceremoniously plopped back down, fully expecting to have to find reasons to shift closer to Patrick once again. To his surprise and delight, Patrick sat down in the same place he had been, his side pressed firmly against David’s, his hand back on his knee. 

David wasted a few moments stressing over how to initiate the contact, worrying he may be overstepping, despite Stevie’s implications that his feelings were requited. Before he could psych himself out, Patrick’s hand oh so casually brushed against his own. Shocked, David looked over at Patrick’s face, the only indication of his actions a pink tinge to his cheeks and a barely contained smile.

Swallowing down his nerves, David flipped his hand over so Patrick could thread their fingers together, hands now clasped on David’s knee. Patrick’s cheeks grew pinker and his smile widened. Faintly, David registered excited shouts from the other occupants of the room, presumably celebrating a successful baseball endeavor, but he could barely hear them over the pounding heartbeat in his ears. Because he could, and because he needed to prove this was real, David squeezed Patrick’s hand lightly and then delighted in the gesture being returned a second later.

*******

The game carried on, players batting and running and throwing and sliding. Patrick still leaned in to offer commentary, sometimes just squeezing David’s hand when something happened that didn’t require an explanation. David, who was already not interested in the game, spent the majority of the remaining innings stroking Patrick’s hand with his thumb and trying to commit everything about this situation to his long-term memory.

“One more out and we win the game!” Patrick’s whisper was adorably excited.

“But don’t… we have to hit again? Isn’t it only the… top of the inning?” David had gotten a bit distracted when Patrick started explaining the top and bottom of the inning, but he thought he got the gist of it.

“Hey, good catch!” Patrick chuckled slightly at his pun, “So in the final inning, if the home team - that’s the team that bats in the bottom, remember?” David nodded, “Great! If the home team is ahead after the top of the ninth, the game ends. At that point, there’s no way for the other team to win, so it doesn’t make sense to tire out the players for nothing.”

“And if they are behind after the top, the home team will bat?” While David didn’t really care, he couldn’t deny that Patrick’s excitement was captivating.

“Right! That’s why they often say home team advantage. They either get to win by playing a bit less or have the last at-bat to maybe get ahead.”

“Mm. And what if there’s a tie?” 

Patrick’s face lit up, “Well, then they play extra innings until someone wins! It’s usually only a couple extra innings, but sometimes they go way longer. In 2008, there was a game that lasted 22 innings! And no one even scored until the 14th!” 

Patrick was speaking a bit louder now, but no one seemed to pay him any mind. The batter, the Red Sox shortstop, had, what David now knew to be, a full count, meaning the next pitch could decide the game. Or at least prolong it. David felt bad for distracting Patrick from most of the at-bat, but he didn’t seem to mind, focusing back in at the potential last play. 

The pitch was thrown, and the bat made a cracking noise as the ball soared through the air in a high arch. To David, it seemed like a hit, but judging by the intensity with which Patrick was now gripping his hand, there may have still been some hope for an out. The centerfielder was running backward, glove positioned by his shoulder, and at the last minute, he dove back, extending his arm as the ball just landed in his glove. 

The room erupted into cheers, as, on-screen, the Blue Jays celebrated in the dugout. Ronnie and Ted had jumped to their feet, and Stevie was shaking her fists in victory. As David took in the excitement surrounding him, he felt Patrick lift their joined hands, something he paid little mind to. That was, until Patrick placed a quick, smacking kiss to the back of David’s hand, seemingly unconsciously in his celebration. When David looked at him, wide-eyed, Patrick was looking over at Ted as they both yelled in excitement; he didn’t seem to realize what he had done.

Soon, the cheers petered off and everyone seemed to return to the moment. Ted, ever the gentleman, began to bring dirty dishes into the kitchen as Ronnie and Stevie collected empty bottles. Some other people, who David recognized as one of Ray’s business friends and a few people who used to hang out with Mutt before he left on his pinecone journey, were scouring the floor to pick up any errant paper plates or spilled food. David marveled at the pure Canadianess of it all.

“I take it most of your get-togethers in New York didn’t include all the guests helping to clean up?” Patrick was at David’s side with a trash bag, loading in discarded plates and bottles.

“It didn’t much matter because I had a regular cleaning service. But no, most people who came to those parties didn’t show me this level of respect.” David cringed at the memories of being used and ignored.

“To be fair, I’m not sure this is out of respect, more a sense of Canadian duty. And I hope you’re getting some respect now. You deserve that, at the very least.”

“The very least?”

“Mm, maybe tolerance at the very least? I mean, I’d argue you deserve nothing less than respect  _ and _ adoration, but I’m kind of hoping that the second one is really only coming from me.” Patrick was not looking at David, very obviously focusing his gaze on the mess and trying to avoid his eyes.

“Well, I have quite the adoring public, so…” David was going for a joke, but the startled look with which Patrick turned to him seemed to suggest he missed the mark on that one.

“Oh, I -- I didn’t realize --”

“No, no, that was a joke. I was joking. I don’t… People don’t seem to really be all that interested in me. In that way, at least.”

“Ah.” Patrick had a tantalizing half-smile as he continued to clean the area. David stood there watching him, unsure how to best help and too worried he had ruined his chances with a dumb joke.

“Brewer, we’re gonna head out. Great game, thanks for inviting us!” The trio of Mutt’s friends waved on their way out. They were followed closely by Ray’s business friend, and then Ronnie, who didn’t seem keen on spending any more time than necessary with the remaining partygoers.

Ted hung out for a bit longer, him, Patrick, and Stevie discussing game highlights as David nodded along, pretending to understand. Eventually, he made some pun about “goating up” early the next morning and left. 

“You know, I should probably go too. I have that… thing.” Stevie threw David a meaningful look as she slung her messenger bag over her shoulder.

“Oh, sure, bye Stevie! Thanks for coming!” Patrick followed her to the door to see her out as David braced himself back on the couch. He heard the door shut and Patrick shuffle back into the room.

“Um, are you hungry?” Patrick was leaning against the wall not not awkwardly. 

“I could eat. Do you, um, want any help?” David wasn’t much of a cook, that much had been proven. But he’d try for Patrick.

“Oh, you can cook?” Patrick was clearly mocking him if his tone and smirk were anything to go by. Normally, David would be turned off by that level of snark, too desperate for affection and approval, but his friendship with Stevie had shown him that someone can both mock you mercilessly and love you endlessly. The ease with which Patrick and David had settled into a similar dynamic affirmed to him that their bond was something special.

“No, not particularly. But I am an excellent taste tester and have been known to offer entertaining commentary.”

Patrick pushed off the wall and made his way over to David, stopping just a step closer than a casual friend would. “Hm, so it sounds like I‘d be doing all the work while you got to have samples and tell me everything I’m doing wrong.”

“That’s one way to look at it. Alternatively, you get to cook, something you could maybe have a passion for...” Patrick playfully shrugged, “Sure, while also enjoying my presence.”

“Well, when you put it that way.” David couldn’t help smiling at Patrick’s banter and the warmth that flowed through him during this conversation, or really, during every conversation he had with Patrick.

Patrick nodded his head towards the kitchen, inviting David to follow him into the other room. As Patrick took out pots and ingredients, David made his way around the space, judging Ray’s hodge-podge design aesthetic. He paused in front of the fridge, on which was hung a truly awkward photo of Patrick and Ray that had clearly been taken, and photoshopped, by Ray. A stiff and uncomfortable Patrick was grimacing next to an overenthusiastically Ray who was not concerned with personal space. The best part of the photo was the backdrop; the two men, despite most likely taking the photo in Ray’s living room, were superimposed onto an erupting volcano.

“My God! This is really something.” David couldn’t look away.

Patrick turned from his perch at the stove to see what David was referring to, immediately going even paler and adopting a horrified expression, “I forgot that was there.”

“Ah, but don’t you lovingly gaze at it every day? Now, did Ray realize the implications of the eruption, or was that a beautiful coincidence?”

“It was my first official day here and Ray wanted a ‘roomie/co-worker’ picture to mark the occasion. I had no idea he was gonna do… that.” Patrick was bright red, unable to leave the stove to take down the picture for fear of his sauce burning in his absence.

“I wonder what he did to that couple’s photos from when I came here to fill out my incorporation papers.” David smiled and hoped that steering the conversation towards that day would help to lift Patrick’s spirits.

Patrick tried to suppress a smile, “That was a good day.”

“Maybe for you. Some guy at Ray’s was very snippy with me.”

“Or, maybe he could see through all your nervous babble to the great idea underneath and just wanted to help you get there.”

“Yes, well, we may never know.”

With one final smile, Patrick turned back to the stove to finish their dinner. David decided to make himself useful by setting the table. Not wanting to disturb Patrick, he quietly opened cabinets and drawers until he found the plates and utensils. A quick look into the fridge revealed a half-full bottle of white wine, which David grabbed before thinking better of it. He filled two glasses with generous pours.

“Oh, that was actually Ray’s wine…” Patrick had a pot in each hand and a dishtowel slung over his shoulder, looking like the domestic dream David had abandoned long ago. A small ache settled in his chest at the sight.

“Um, do you have a funnel?”

Patrick blew out a surprised laugh as he placed the pots in the middle of the table, “It should be fine. Worse comes to worst, we can give him one of the bottles from the store.”

“Wow, aren’t you the one so against taking anything from the store without paying?” David sat down, eagerly spooning pasta into his bowl.

“Who said anything about not paying? Really, you should be the one to buy it, but I’ll help you out and pay for half.” Patrick was looking down at his food, but David could see him smirking. It was maddening.

“How generous of you!” David fought down a smile as Patrick gave a small shrug and waved him off.

Dinner passed in much the same manner, teasing with sincerity sprinkled throughout. Patrick tried to reminisce about the game, but David wasn’t much of a conversation partner when it comes to sports talk. Even though he had literally seen the game. More in his wheelhouse, David marveled at Patrick’s cooking, while Patrick brushed it off as a simple family recipe he’d been making most of his life.

“My mom claimed to have a family recipe once.”

“Oh yeah?” Patrick had so far only heard stories about Moira, but none of those stories painted her as a particularly domestic figure.

“Mm, her mother had apparently been quite skilled at making enchiladas. We made them once, in Roland and Jocelyn’s kitchen.” David shuttered at the memory, more disturbed by the Schitt’s decor than the actual act of cooking.

“How’d that go?” Patrick’s eyes were wide with mocking wonder.

“Um… let’s just say I’m not a fan of having to fold in cheese. But in the end, it wasn’t bad. Although you will note that we have had all of our subsequent meals at the cafe.” They shared a smile at that.

Shortly after, their bowls and glasses were empty, and David was grasping at excuses to extend the evening. Just as he was about to suggest a movie, Patrick checked his watch and sighed.

“Ray’s due back soon. He said he’d be back at 8, but he’s notorious for showing up earlier than anticipated. Thankfully, he hasn’t walked in on anything too scandalous, but he did catch me playing drunken air drums to a Phil Collins song once.” Patrick pinkened at the admission, while David found himself even more endeared, “You’re welcome to stay, but if we started a movie or something he would inevitably interrupt and offer loud commentary. Something tells me you wouldn’t be a fan of that.”

David shook his head, “No, not a fan.”

“Maybe we could get a raincheck? I have a feeling you’re going to take great joy in introducing me to a wide range of rom-com leading ladies.”

“We’ll start with Julia and Meg and see where it takes us.”

They sat for a moment, looking at each other with matching dopey grins before Patrick seemed to shake himself out of it, “Would you like a ride back to the motel? I wouldn’t want you walking these mean streets all alone in the dark.”

“My hero! Yes, a ride would be nice.”

As Patrick cleared the table and put everything in the dishwasher, David tried to calm the nerves swirling within him. He only had about 10 minutes left with Patrick, and he wanted to make the most of it. A movie would have been great; they could build on the momentum the hand-holding created, maybe even cross into some light cuddling. Then, as the music swelled in the emotional climax of the film, Patrick would slowly turn David’s face towards his and they’d share a simple, yet breathtaking kiss.

These were the kinds of fantasies David had given up on long ago. He learned quickly that people wanted him for money and sex, and when they had their fill, he was easy to cast aside. Rom-coms weren’t reality, and David had been told one too many times that he was just not someone to be loved.

It felt dangerous to entertain these thoughts now. Sure, his experiences in this town had been better than many in New York, but neither Stevie nor Jake had made him feel much beyond a physical attraction. He couldn’t see himself falling in love with either of them, and he didn’t think he wanted to. But Patrick? David could fall in love with Patrick. And even scarier than that, he was beginning to think he wanted to fall in love with Patrick.

“You ready to go?” Patrick’s question jolted David out of his thoughts.

“Mhm.” David gave a short nod and followed Patrick out to his car. Patrick opened his door for him, and David felt pathetic for his glee; it was such a simple gesture that most polite people would do, it didn’t make Patrick Prince Charming. Still, there was something special to it being Patrick doing such a gesture specifically for David.

The car ride passed in relative silence, some folksy song playing low on the radio as they turned down the familiar streets to the motel. Patrick pulled into a spot in front of Room 7, shifting the car into park and taking a deep breath.

“I had a really great time with you today, David.” Patrick’s eyes were alight with sincerity, boring into David’s soul.

“Well, your team won, which, ya know, is fun, I guess.” David was sure Patrick could hear his heart beating.

Patrick huffed out a small laugh, “Sure, that was great. But the real highlight was getting to spend time with you. I’m really glad you decided to come today. And I’m glad you stayed for dinner. I kind of just want to spend as much time with you as I can.”

David nodded along, already leaning in. They met in the middle, David’s hand on the back of Patrick’s neck, the gear shift acting as a pesky barrier. Patrick grasped David’s arm and squeezed slightly as their lips moved against each other.

With great willpower, David pulled back, letting out a shaky breath and smiling at the awed expression on Patrick’s face. David’s smile migrated to one side of his face as he watched Patrick go through a myriad of emotions in one short moment.

“Thank you,” It was a breath, almost too low for David to believe he had actually heard it.

“For what?” David didn’t add that he should be thanking Patrick for what may have been the best kiss of thousands of kisses.

“Um, I’ve never done that before. With a guy. So...”

And there it was: the catch. David had been here before, many many times. He used to like being a straight guy’s experiment, being the one guy they deemed worthy of sexual exploration; he felt an odd sense of power at being able to shape a man’s same-gender experience. But soon, he started to feel used and thrown away, especially when a guy who was praising him the night before would show up to a party with a girl on his arm and barely a glance at David. So Patrick would just be added to the list, and David would find some way to piece back together his broken heart, a heart more broken than it had maybe ever been.

“O-okay.” There didn’t seem to be anything else to say. 

“Yeah. And, uh --” David braced himself for the rejection, for Patrick to let him know that it had been fun but wasn’t really for him, “I was getting a little scared that I was going to let you leave here without us having done that so, um, thank you for, um, making that happen for us.”

That wasn’t rejection. That was maybe the opposite of rejection. That was Patrick fully admitting he had wanted this for a while and was almost too scared to make it happen because he wanted it so much. David wasn’t an experiment to him; he wasn’t angling to get him in bed and release some steam before repressing those experiences and retreating back to his safe haven of heteronormativity. Patrick  _ wanted  _ David, in the same way David wanted Patrick.

He shook himself out, trying to form words while his brain malfunctioned at the validation of his feelings, “Well, um. Fortunately, I am a very generous person. So...” It was a lame joke, but it broke the tension and allowed Patrick to breathe out a laugh.

Patrick’s smile was almost too fond and too gentle, “Can we talk tomorrow?” 

David was nodding before he had even finished the question, “Mhm. We can talk whenever you’d like. Just preferably not before 10 am. Um, because I’m not really a morning person.” It wasn’t true. Well, David not being a morning person was true, but he’d gladly talk to Patrick before 10 am.

“Mm.” It wasn’t new for Patrick to respond in such a way to David’s excentricities, but the blatant affection in his tone was new.

As David tried to exit the car with as much grace as possible, while also making sure his smile didn’t grow so big as to be embarrassing, he felt a thrill at seeing Patrick struggling to tamp down his own smile in his periphery.

“Goodnight, David.” Apparently, people don’t only look up at someone through their lashes in romance novels because Patrick was doing just that. David’s heart skipped a few beats and his stomach fluttered at the sight.

“Goodnight, Patrick.” It was breathy, fond, almost overwhelmed. David couldn’t muster much more, too busy trying to not do some incredibly embarrassing victory celebration and instead walk to his door like a normal person. 

He took a few steps forward, turning back to see Patrick beaming at his steering wheel, seemingly paralyzed with some indescribable emotion, somewhere north of happiness. Knowing he wasn’t the only one too overcome by the moment to properly function gave David some relief and lessened his embarrassment at being just a bit shaky on his feet. Before he could turn back around, Patrick glanced up, meeting David’s eyes in surprise, quickly morphing back to what David was realizing might be elation. They stood there, staring at each other for a moment before David rose a hand to his still tingling lips, pressed a small kiss to it, and lightly waved the hand in Patrick’s direction. When he returned to normal mental capacities, he would probably cringe at the gesture, but the smile Patrick rewarded him with made it clear he wouldn’t care. 

With one final smile, David made his way towards his door, forcing himself to enter without looking back again. He knew that another look would make it near impossible for him to leave Patrick tonight, and it felt too soon to unpack all of that.

David Rose was still not a baseball fan; he still found the game long and confusing and boring. But David also owed a lot to baseball. If he were Ted, he’d make some awful reach of a baseball pun. If he were Alexis, he’d reference all the baseball-adjacent people and experiences that got him to this point. If he were Patrick, he’d say something about batting 1000 or hitting a home run. As David, he had no clever thank you or long-winded story; just a new soft spot for the sport. And who knows, he was planning to spend a lot of time with a pretty big baseball fan, so maybe he could learn to love it beyond its role as a matchmaker.

**Author's Note:**

> Feel free to find me on Tumblr at [theswiftiewholived](https://theswiftiewholived.tumblr.com/)!


End file.
